


We're All Mad Here

by strawberryskylines



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alice In Wonderland AU, M/M, also starring random AIW characters, but i am, don't know why i'm posting this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:25:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryskylines/pseuds/strawberryskylines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- the one where louis falls down a hole because of that bloody rabbit and somehow finds himself in Wonderland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're All Mad Here

**Author's Note:**

> If drabbles are short, than this is a dribble. Or a drip. Drip sounds better.
> 
> It's just a really, really short Alice in Wonderland AU that I wrote yesterday while babysitting some kids (did you know that you're not actually supposed to sit on the babies?).

when he falls, all he can see is dark, dark, dark and it surrounds him like inescapable prison walls and the terror suffocates him from the inside out. he forgets how to scream, let alone how to breathe.

it takes him exactly twenty one seconds to catch his breath, and when he does, the air is rushing up, up, up into his face so fast it dizzies him momentarily. all he can think about how long it will take for him to hit the ground and how badly he’ll be injured when he does and _why did he have to follow that damn rabbit_.

when he finally does hit the ground, however, he is not welcomed with skinned knees or broken ribs, but is instead promptly greeted by a circular room lined with rectangular doors, all locked. and it’s insanely confusing with all it’s _EAT ME_ and _DRINK ME_ and growing and shrinking and _dammit, louis, you’re three inches high and you’ve forgotten the key on the table!_

after a brief struggle, he finally manages to unlock that tiny, tiny door and step through. he didn’t exactly know what he had been looking forward to, but it certainly hadn’t been this. this, this absolutely peculiar jungle with talking plant-life and animals taller than he and cryptic caterpillars who smoke hookahs and cats that have him nearly jumping out of his own skin with their vanishing and then (seconds later) reappearing abilities and their scarily charming smiles.

soon, he encounters two large and abnormally plump boys who’s names sound like something birds would chirp in the morning, and he just wants to go home at this point. they keep telling him to not be afraid, that no one here would dare to hurt him and when he asks exactly where ‘here’ is, they just laugh and tell him he’s a silly, silly boy. they point him this way and that, near and far, muttering, “the hatter can help you. the hatter will help you.”

they pull him along a winding path with thorn bushes on both sides, and if they aren’t bickering over his head, they’re making jokes that have these stupid punch lines and make absolutely _no_ sense, but louis laughs anyway, because his mother raised him right.

when they finally come to a stop at a break in the woods, the boys tell him that he’ll be safe now, and then they vanish like they’d never been there at all. louis doesn’t fret, though, because he’s only been in this land for maybe an hour or so, but he’s already so used to its strange customs.

in the middle of the clearing, there is a little house that’s painted all sorts of different pastel colors and got these adorable drapes in the windows and it’s quite quaint. but to the right of the little house there is a dining table. one that’s much, much longer and wider than the one louis has back at home, but he could never tell his mother this because she’d have a right fit.

laid over the table in the form of a table cloth is some kind of sheet that maybe years ago was stark white, but is now speckled with a rainbow of colors from a large variety of substances. there’s the standard plates, knives, forks, spoons, tea cups and saucers of fine china arranged about on the surface on the table, which has something like eight or so chairs tucked into it.

much to louis’ dismay, the only occupants of this table happen to be a stranger and a rabbit, but not the white one who’s responsible for getting Louis into this mess in the first place.

the stranger is sitting there, on the far, far, far end of the table, one pale hand clutching a spoon, the other wrapped around a tea cup that has a hole in the bottom, but is somehow still filled to the rim with liquid. to his right sits a very jittery, very paranoid looking hare whom has a very bad habit of flinging the dishes spread out on the table.

the other boy’s eyes are green, but they’re a light shade that would remind one of fresh grass in the springtime. his hair is curled intricately, but they’re ruined with the matting of a top hat appropriately labeled 10/6 on top of them. his attire is entirely ridiculous and blindingly colorful, something mother would deem as ‘ _something only someone completely off their rocker would wear’_. and the boy indeed look completely off his rocker, but louis would never admit that out loud.

“you’re late for tea!” the hare tries more than three times to fling a tea cup in his direction and luckily, each time he’s miraculously managed to step out of the line of fire before it collided with his skull.

“who are you?” the curly-haired boy presses gently with soft words, emerald eyes aflame with curiosity as he’s out of his seat and takes one step, two steps, three steps, four towards louis. “are you him?”

louis squints his sapphire blue eyes, tries his best to look just a little bit taller than the strange boy before him, but it doesn’t help when the other boy towers over him like a brick house. “who are _you_?”

“no fair,” the other boy hovers just a few inches shy of touching louis’ lips with his own lips that are sinfully red, and his bowtie splattered with multicolored polka dots is just barely brushing up against the louis’ chest; just barely. but the friction is so delicious that louis can feel sparks shooting in his ribcage and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “i asked you first.”

“i’m louis.” he replies meekly, almost weakly and the name tastes like overly sugared honey on his tongue.

the boy claps his hands together excitedly, but never makes a move to back away. he’s obviously never been taught proper manners, and louis briefly wonders where his mother is. “you _are_ him!”

“him who?” he tries to get the question out into the air, but the other lad is already atop him, peppering his forehead, cheeks and jawline with sickeningly sweet butterfly kisses with his lollipop pink mouth. “stop that! don’t kiss me; i have no knowledge as to where you’ve been!”

the boy lets him go then, and lets their faces drift apart, and he’s smiling stupidly at louis, practically beaming. he finally releases his hold and starts fluttering around the table chanting something along the lines of _twinkle, twinkle, little bat. how I wonder where you’re at. up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky_ before he finally slides into his seat at the head of the table once more.

“oh, well, now that you’re here, but incredibly late, may i add,” the olive-eyed boy taps one, two, three times on the watch in his hand to show just how late louis had arrived, before shoving the item into the pocket of his jacket and leaning across the table on his elbows. his eyes are wide, gleefully so. “you can finally tell me the answer to my riddle. why _is_ a raven like a writing desk?”

and that’s such a silly question, if louis has ever heard one. a raven and a writing desk? they’re two opposite things, and opposite things aren’t similar. that’s the _point_. he answers the question as best as he knows how. “i-i don’t know.”

the boy doesn’t seem to bothered by louis’ lack of response because he’s getting up again and taking these long strides to close the distance between them with these legs that seem to go on for days and days and then he’s exclaiming with a smile so bright it’s blinding, “you’re incredibly silly, louis!”   

“i must be completely mad.” is all louis can think to say, all his lungs will allow him to say as he permits the foreigner – who really doesn’t understand the term ‘personal space’ – to run his slender fingers over his cheeks, thread through his hair, wrap his skinny, skinny legs around his waist.

but the curly-haired stranger only thumbs the tip of his dilapidated hat sitting askew on the crown of his head. and with a cheeky grin so wide it reaches his eyes, he catches the other boy’s lips before saying breathily, “it’s okay, louis. we’re all mad here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was enjoyable.


End file.
